He woke with a flinch and a yawn. His muscles ached, probably from falling asleep where he'd been sitting against the wall, and his shoulder was nearly numb. He blamed that on the way Elizabeth had apparently leaned into him, curling into his side. He felt her breath on his neck and a soft snore followed a moment after. He assumed the sound was what had woken him.
He never knew the Secretary was a snorer. Chloe was too. Though his little girl was surprisingly much louder.
He felt something push against his foot and his eyes snapped open.
He blinked, eyes adjusting, and— His breath caught. "Elizabeth," he whispered. Seeing the man standing over them, he nudged her gently. When she didn't wake, he pushed her head up and squeezed her shoulder.
He could feel the man's stare on the side of his face. What did he want? Did he want her? Did they finally decide he didn't need to be kept around anymore?
His fingers dug into her skin.
"Hmm?" She breathed.
His eyes searched her face. "Wake up," he said. His palm slid up, and he patted her cheek. "You need to open your eyes."
And she did. She squinted, and— And watching her face he could identify the exact moment when she realized where she was… realized that there was someone standing over them.
She sucked in a breath. "Jay," she gasped as she used her hands to push up from the floor. Her palms slid against the wall as she stood.
His eyes darted back to the man. "Hey!" He yelled as the man drew his gun, aiming it towards Elizabeth as she cowered to the back wall. She pressed her back into the corner, seeming to stand in the point of the room that was furthest from the door. "She's not a threat," he said. For God's sake she was scared, injured, and physically didn't stand a chance up against any of them.
The man eyed him, though he kept a steady arm outstretched towards her.
He slowly stood, and as he did the gun turned on him— without the ties, he was a threat. He threw up his hands.
The man didn't speak, only held his stance, as his stare moved between the two of them.
His eyes jumped to the figure that appeared in the doorway. Like the man in the room, he didn't speak as he bent down and slid a tray across the cement. His gaze tipped to the floor. It looked like jam and bread.
"Eat," the man commanded.
Jay looked up, watching as the gun was lowered to the man's side as he slowly walked backwards towards the door. Metal echoed. And just like that, they were left alone once again.
He stared at the back of the door, soaking up the now quiet room until he heard her gasp.
He turned, eyes instantly landing on her. She was crouched down, one hand on her knee while the other was clutching her bad side.
"Elizabeth?" His voice was quiet as he walked the few steps to her.
She straightened, and too quickly by the way her lips tugged down. Her body was in no shape for abrupt movements. She grabbed at the front of her blouse, almost desperately. "I— I can't breathe." Her chest shook, and she was crying now.
He was at the office a lot less than usual after Iran because of his daughter's birth. Blake had mentioned that she struggled. He'd heard about the panic attacks through Nadine, but he'd never seen her through one.
He stepped up to her. "You're okay," he muttered. It sounded questionable even to his own ears. He placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Can you…" He tried to think of what to say. "Can you concentrate on your breathing?"
Her eyes met his, and he could see the fear there. Almost as if she was silently pleading for help as her lungs begged for air.
His left hand went to his own chest. "Copy me." He took in a breath, held it, and then made a show of letting it out. "Can you do that?"
Blonde hair swept in front of her face as she shook her head. "No," she cried.
There was only one other way he knew how to help.
He lowered himself to the ground, bringing her with him, and he maneuvered them so he wouldn't put pressure on her side. She was nearly in his lap. He rubbed a palm up and down her back as his left arm wrapped around her middle. It reminded him of the time he'd sat on the sidewalk holding Chloe to his chest after she'd fallen and scraped her knee.
"You're okay," he whispered again, but how could he reassure her of that when he knew that just about everything involved in this situation wasn't okay?
"I—" She tried to talk, but he stopped her.
"I'm right here," he said. It's the one thing he could be sure of in this moment. He was here. Why him? He still didn't know, but he was here, and he'd do everything he could to help her and help himself out of this nightmare.
He held her, continuing to slightly rock her— it worked with Chloe. At some point, she'd settled, and she'd quieted when her chest began to rise and fall at an almost even rate. He'd thought she'd fallen asleep until she'd pushed her head up from his chest.
Her eyes were watery. "I thought they were going to take me." She sniffled.
She sounded like a child. The thought crossed his mind that maybe they all really were still children at heart.
She licked her lips. "They said next time if Conrad doesn't meet their demands that they'll—" Her lip trembled. "They'll rape me."
He swallowed. He was reminded that there was nothing childish about what had already happened to her. Had happened to them. What may still happen.
"I'll kill them before they do," he decided.
She shook her head. "They'll kill you first," she cried. And the tears were back.
How was she supposed to sit with this? Sit here. Sleep here. Eat while she waited, knowing that there was a possibility that they would come in here, and— "What are the chances?" She knew numbers. Maybe they were bluffing. Using the threat to intimidate her. To scare her half to death… scare the people back home into a deal.
"Of?"
His throat went dry. "Of us getting out of here alive?"
"I don't know," she breathed.
He watched her eyes. Her eyes said it all. She knew. She had to.
"What about… Do you think they're bluffing? About what they said?" He asked.
A tear fell from the corner of her eye. "Sixty percent," she muttered.
His heart dropped. How could she live with that other forty?
She leaned forward, burying her face into his shoulder. His hand came up to her upper back. His fingers brushed against the ends of her hair.
"I want Henry," she cried.